


Satisfied

by bexorz



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexorz/pseuds/bexorz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela and Fenris come together to satisfy the sexual tension between them, sneaking away from their friends at the Hanged Man, and they're both happy with the results. (Written 01/10/2012, originally posted to tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satisfied

Isabela smirked at the elf from across the thick wooden table. Their rowdy friend stood on the far end of said table, balancing on one leg, holding a thick joint of turkey and gesticulating in a wild and somewhat deranged manner. Everyone else’s attention was on him and his antics, but hers was all on the lithe, caramel-skinned man in front of her. For years, she’d been curious about Fenris, and had made her appreciation of his appearance quite plain. She had also openly speculated about what he’d be like in bed.

His eyes were fixed on their friend, not paying attention to her, and a rare snigger escaped him. She turned her gaze down the table to see what gave him such amusement.  _That raccoon-faced bastard is pretending that the turkey leg is a dragon’s leg._ She was not quite sure what sort of story he had been trying to tell any more, but she didn’t listen any way. He was the Champion of Kirkwall, and he was smearing a greasy piece of turkey leg all over his face. In public. That made her smile. She was still rather fond of him, even though it had been many years since their brief fling.

Anders sat next to him and grumbled something that she couldn’t quite make out. He was in one of those  _moods_  that he’d been in quite a lot lately. Hawke, in an obvious attempt to cheer the mage up - or perhaps to shut him up, which was also likely - leaned down, grabbed him by the collar, and gave him a long, messy kiss.

The mage made muffled noises of protest.

“Hawke!” he exclaimed finally and threw up his hands to ward off the attack.

But he was flushed, and she guessed that he didn’t exactly dislike the kiss.

Across the table from her, the elf’s amused smirk turned sour, and he looked away from Hawke’s antics. It was likely because he could not stand the mage, and disliked some of Hawke’s more outlandish public displays of affection. He liked to spend time with Hawke when it was just the two of them, and would rather the mage simply stayed at home for these gatherings, especially since Anders never drank alcohol anyway.

At least she could catch Fenris’s eye now. She leaned back in her seat and stretched out her leg to run the toe of her boot along the side of his foot. He thought it an accident, at first, and simply shifted his leg out of the way. But when he looked back at her, she gave him a crooked little smile. Looking him in the eye, she licked her index finger, along the side from the big knuckle to the tip, and ran her fingertip in a circle around the lip of her mug.

He raised his eyebrows in curiosity. She could tell that he wondered what she was up to. As she slid her foot up along the inside of his calf, and along his knee and back down again, he just watched her, his eyes widening slightly. Hawke was still acting like a fool, and no one else paid any attention to the fact that Isabela and Fenris had grown quiet on their end of the table.

The pirate took a shallow sip of her drink, and with a deliberate care licked at the moisture it left on her lips. There was a somewhat amused look on his face, which she liked. Moving her leg, she traced a line with her booted toe past his knee again, sliding it along the inside of his thigh. Up, then down, then further up his leg, and back, she made big, slow circles with her foot, watching him for his reaction. He did not protest, and the dark look in his eyes was hardly anger. It was obvious that he was trying hard not to react, but she could see his lips part a little, and his breath was a bit deeper than it had been before.

This wasn’t all out of the blue. She had been teasing him a lot of late, ever since she had returned from her time away from the city. She’d subjected him to a mixture of suggestive hints, touching his ass when she could get away with it without anyone else noticing, and shameless comments about “glistening” slaves and similar concepts.

“You look like you could use some hot, sweaty exercise tonight, Fenris.”

“You know, Fenris, you’re looking a little tense. I bet I know how I could loosen you up a little.”

“I wonder, what would you taste like with berry syrup drizzled all over you?”

To which he had replied, calm as a cucumber, “Berry syrup, I’d imagine.”

His voice had been even, but in his eyes she had seen a flash of  _something_  besides amusement, at what could have been taken as just another teasing or flirtatious comment. She was perceptive enough to know that he had pictured the exact same thing as she: his body covered in viscous red liquid, with her crouched over him, licking him clean with deliberate care.

As much as she liked flirting with him and teasing him, she wanted more. She had enjoyed a number of fantasies involving him already, and if she couldn’t try them  _all_ out, she’d at least like to get around to some of them.

Tonight, she was bolder than ever before, and it felt  _especially_  gratifying that he still sat there and let her caress him under the table. Even if it was with something other than her hand.

There was a look in his eyes now, like a challenge. He drank from his own mug and shifted his foot closer to hers under the table. She took that as an invitation, and put her whole leg against his, and rubbed her knee back and forth. The elf’s eyebrows drew together just the slightest bit. She caressed his calf again with her toe, and slid it around behind his knee only to bring it down towards his ankle again.

Isabela dipped a finger into her drink, twirled it around a little, then removed her finger and brought it to her mouth. She sucked it clean, closing her eyes halfway and making an appreciative ‘ _mmm_ _’_ noise. He cleared his throat, and his eyes drifted off to the side. She saw his cheeks get just a little flushed, and in her head she crowed at how delightful that looked.

Glancing towards the other end of the table, Isabela leaned on the table with one elbow, draping the other arm below the table, as if she were tired or drunk. With questing fingers she reached forward underneath, and finally found his knee. His eyes widened when she moved her hand forward and caressed the inside of his leg. While she kept at it, getting as close to his groin as she could without actually crawling under the table, he was squirming a little.

With a grunt, he picked up his mug and took a big swig. Was he trying to hide his reaction again? Isabela smirked. He slammed the mug back down on the table. His cheeks were definitely flushed now.

That drew Varric’s attention. The dwarf turned. “What’s wrong, Broody, out of ale?” he asked.

“Uh, I…” Fenris struggled.

“I am too,” Isabela interjected. She scooted out of her seat and stood. “I’ll go get another round.”

“Oh!” Hawke called, holding up his mug. “Be a doll and get me some too?”

Rolling her eyes, Isabella nodded. “All right, Big Boy, whatever you say.” She made her way around the table with the remains of her drink. Leaning over next to Fenris, between him and the dwarf, she grabbed his mug. With her other hand, out of sight of the others, she tickled it up his jawline and along his sensitive ear. He stiffened. She couldn’t help herself, and she licked the tip of his other ear. This was also blocked from the others’ view by her hair.

Passing by Hawke, she paused and held her hand out expectantly. He raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“You don’t think I’m going to buy a drink for one of the richest men in Kirkwall, do you?” she put her fists on her hips.

“Aw, come  _on_ ,” he said. “Aren’t we friends?”

Anders shook his head. “Just give her the money, would you?”

Hawke let out a long-suffering sigh and reached for his coinpurse. He dropped a few coins into Isabela’s outstretched palm, his hangdog expression not fooling anyone. She pocketed the money and patted him on the cheek. “There’s a good boy.”

Grabbing Hawke’s mug, she took a look down the table at Fenris again. His eyes followed her as she left the dwarf’s suite and headed back downstairs.

When she returned, Hawke was a bit  _too_  enthusiastic when she handed him his fresh drink. He beamed at her. “Have you got my change, doll babe?”

“Ha! Change? What change? That’s a delivery fee, sweet thing. You’re perfectly capable of getting your own drink.”

Varric laughed. “She’s got you there, Hawke.”

“What about Fenris?” Hawke asked, giving the elf a look. “You brought  _him_  a drink.”

“Well, maybe if you had waited for me to offer to bring you one, then you’d get the rest of your money back.” She patted the place on her hip above where her purse was hidden.

“Foiled again,” Hawke lamented.

Isabela did not return to her previous seat. She sat down on the bench between Varric and Fenris. “Scoot over, sweetheart,” she demanded.

Varric grumbled something about her being demanding. Fenris, however, said, “I can’t go anywhere. I’m on the edge.”

“Oh, I just  _bet_  you are,” was her quiet reply. Nobody else heard, but the tips of Fenris’s ears turned pink.

During the following conversation at the table, Isabela did her best to participate, but all the while she took the opportunity to feel over Fenris’s leg and his inner thigh. Aside from a couple brushes with the back of her hand, she avoided going near the tight bulge in his pants. He was clearly not interested in letting anyone else know what was going on, and was not protesting, although she could tell he was exercising a great deal of restraint.

At some point, though, he grabbed her by the wrist firmly. He squeezed, and she gasped softly, blinking at him. But he smirked, and forced her hand down at her side. It was his turn, now, to run his fingers across her hip and over  _her_  leg. They spent a few minutes like that. He was paying her back, and doing nothing more than touching her leg.

“So, Isabela, what do you think of that?” Varric asked her suddenly.

The pirate had absolutely no idea what had been said. Neither did she care. In a flawless recovery and escape from an obligation to answer, she stood up with fluid grace from her seat.

“ _I_  think that I’d like to leave you silly people, and go for a stroll.”

She gave Fenris a sidelong glance. She wanted him, and she wanted him  _now_ , but her chances were better if she got him alone.

“But I haven’t even told the part about the rabbit!” Hawke protested.

_The…_ _rabbit?_ She held up a hand and opened her mouth to say something, but instead just snorted a laugh and shook her head, smiling.

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

On her way past to the door, she glanced at Anders for a moment, before bending down and cupping Hawke’s cheek. She leaned in and placed her lips against his. “ _Mmm_.”

When she leaned back, he raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Well,  _you’re_  in a good mood, aren’t you?”

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” she said, ignoring the baleful glare that Anders gave her.

She caught the elf watching her as she left. He would be following her out, that she was sure of.

The air of Lowtown has all the smells and sounds that give it the character that she loved. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  _This_ _place_ _has_ _so_ _much_ _life_. Not the most glamorous place in Thedas, but she wouldn’t want it to be any different.

As she wanted to make herself easy to find, she stayed near the entrance to the Hanged Man. She found a stack of crates to perch herself on along a nearby wall and she crossed one leg over the other, leaned back on her hands and tilted her head up. She enjoyed the feel of the cool night air on her skin. She let her lazy gaze drift over the smoke in the air, which was lit from underneath with the orange glow of the foundries nearby.

There were not that many people out, and her presence was largely ignored by the few passersby that did drift through the area. She had only waited for a few minutes when she heard her name called, in a rich, sexy voice. She turned to see Fenris rounding the corner from the doorway to the tavern. She slid down off the crates and she put her hands on her hips and leaned on one leg.

“Well, don’t you just look good enough to eat,” Her tone is just the right side of flirtatious, not too subtle, but not too forward either—she liked to tease him.

He approached her and there was something hungry in his gaze as he looked at her. She wondered how long it had been since he’d bedded anyone. Probably a lot longer than she would imagine going without..She was about to say something, but stopped short as he kept walking closer.

Startled, but intrigued, Isabela played along and backed up a couple steps until her back was against the wall behind her. He was not tall, being an elf, but somehow he had  _presence._  With a clank and a scrape, Fenris braced his hands against the wall on either side of her head and stared into her eyes. There was a definite hunger there; it could almost be considered predatory, though not quite.

“Why, Fenris,” she drawled, sounding pleased as a peach, “this  _is_  rather aggressive of you.”

A slow smirk spread across his lips.

“Is it?” he rumbled. “You have gone out of your way lately to ensure that I cannot clearly focus on other things.”

“Have I?”

Isabela lifted her hand and touched his lower lip and ran her finger from one side of his mouth to the other. He flicked out his tongue and licked her finger, the act made more suggestive by his eyes never leaving hers..

“I know what you want,” Fenris whispered as he leaned in closer to breathe against her neck.

He brushed the tip of his nose along her jawline towards her chin, the bangs of his silky white hair tickled her skin. He arched his back towards her, but still did not touch her other than with his nose.

The pirate placed her hands on his hips, and felt him through his tight armor. She squeezed and moved her hands upward. She felt the light touch of his breath, of his nose, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Oh, you think you know, hmm?”

“Yes.”

“What, then, do I want?”

She tugged his armor to pull him closer then slid her hands up his sides and over the bared skin under his arms.

He shivered in the night air - whether from the cold or her touch, she could not say

“You want to know what color my underclothes are,” his eyes flash with the joke.

Isabela put her hands on his armored chest, tracing the hard lines. She moved them back down to his hips and teased “Oh is that all you came out here for?” and turning her wrist, slipped her hand under his belt.

Fenris growled, grabbed her wrist and shoved her arm back up so he could pin it against the wall behind her. He leaned in and crushed his lips against hers. She could tell he was hungry for this, for the way he was devouring her mouth.

She loved the taste of him. She kissedhim back, and her heart raced from the excitement. She had been looking forward to this before, but now that she had him right in front of her, the anticipation that she had felt was only growing.  _What_ _would_ _he_ _be_ _capable_ _of?_  He had such strength, and she could tell he had a great deal of passion in him. She nipped at his lip and licked over the bite with her tongue.

Fenris groaned a soft noise full of heat and desire. She had him now. She knew it, so did he. He extended his tongue and took a long swipe across her mouth, pressing against her lips in a demand for entrance.

Without hesitation, Isabela parted her lips,and felt his tongue slip in and over her teeth. Grabbing his sides, she sighed as he slid his tongue in further. Closing her lips around it, she suckedand was satisfied when she heard him moan. She squirmed as he tickled the roof of her mouth with that tongue.

“Mmm,” she murmured satisfied against his lips.

It occurrred to her, as it had in the past, to wonder how long it had been since he had been to bed with anyone. The ardor with which he engaged in the kiss suggested that it had been some time. This surprised her, considering what she could tell of his nature. Not that she wished celibacy on  _anyone_ , but it made for that much more exciting and intense experience.

Still, had he not even visited the Rose? She supposed not. On the other hand, she could only guess at the sort of things that Danarius had put him through. Perhaps she should not be surprised that he seemed rather desperate. No, desperate was not quite the right word.

  
It didn’t matter.

Fenris moved a hand up her thigh. He felt over her hip, pressing his thumb onto the spot just below her hipbone. Upward he caressed her, tracing her curves, until he began to caress her breast with his palm. He massaged with firm pressure, kissing her harder with each stroke and pressed his body harder against hers.

When she moved her hands to his belt, her nimble fingers working at the clasps, he withdrew, pushing her away. He was panting and his lips were parted, but he shook his head “Not here.”

“You’re not an exhibitionist?” she smirked and tilted her head forward to give a little lick under his chin.

He gives her a return smirk. “No,” he returned her smirk with one of her own and bit her lower lip.

“Well, then, your place or mine?”

Isabela pressed her palm against his groin, pressed and rubbed up and down just a little. She could feel how it affected him by how he stiffened and his eyelids fluttered.

The first place his eyes drift to was the entrance to the Hanged Man. That was where she lived, and it was a lot closer than his adopted mansion, but not exactly private. She smiled and wagged her eyebrows.

“They  _are_  all still in there, aren’t they.”

It was more of a statement than question, and it was obvious who she was talking about.

“My place,” he rumbled and put his mouth against her neck and nipped at her skin.

“Oh, but it’s  _so_  far…” she teased.

Putting her lips to his ear, she suggested in a whisper, “We could sneak in the back.”

He leaned back and looked at her.

“Sounds promising,” his answering smirk brought a rush of heat to her loins.

She gave the bulge in his pants another affectionate squeeze before she took his hand. Pulling him along with her, she led him to the back alley behind the tavern. Not the cleanest place in Kirkwall and it did smell, they had to step over a few drunks on their way to the ladder.

“Charming.”

“Oh, don’t you know it, sweetheart.”

She paused and hooked a hand behind his neck, pulling him closer for a moment, just long enough to lick his ear, “This place is  _full_  of charm.”

The ladder they used led up to the tenements behind the tavern. Climbing up, they made their way to the roof of the building, and after some mild acrobatics they made their way in through a back window into the upper floor of the Hanged Man.

She led him down the hallway to her room. Picking the lock—she never used the key—she opened the door and slipped in behind him.

Before she had the chance to say or do anything, he grabbed her shoulders. He turned her around and shoved her against the door. He kissed her, his mouth bruising hers while she gasped and he groaned. He pulled off his greaves and dumped them on the floor with a metallic clank.

She grabbed his face and kissed him back, biting his lip, sucking his tongue. While his hands moved down over her shoulders to her hips, she tilted his head up and ran her tongue down along the line of white lyrium that ran down his throat. He gave a soft hiss but instead of pulling away he gripped her hips tighter and, as he had done outside, pressed the whole length of his body against her, pinning her harder into the door.

In response, she moved her hands to grab his ass and ground against him. He groaned, a throaty, thick sound.

“Tell me you like it,” her whisper is a demand, “Tell me you want it.”

“Don’t test me, woman,” he growled into her ear.

“Tell me!”

She ground against him again, pressing one hand down the center of his ass and pulling up a little.

“Nngh, I  _like_ it,” he gave a sigh and shuddered, “Are you happy now?”

The corner of her mouth curled up and she licks her lower lip.

“I can think of a way you can make me  _much_  happier…”

Their faces almost touched one another, his lips swollen from their kissing and her tongue swiped across  _his_  lower lip.

“Oh  _really_?” his tone was amused as well as full of desire.

“Yes. In fact, I-” she gasped.

He had leaned away from her, and he scooped her up into his arms without further ceremony. Slinging her about, he tossed her onto the narrow bed occupying a corner of the room. She bounced once on the mattress before he was on her, pinning her down.

But that was not how she wanted it. Before he could gain his balance on top of her, she twisted her shoulders and angled her hips and pushed him onto his back instead. Her fingers clasped tight around his left wrist, and she held it down against the mattress. He opened his mouth to ask a question or form a protest--she didn’t know, or care, which--but she sealed it shut with her own. With her free hand, and with all the dexterity she possessed in her nimble fingers, she made short work of the numerous buckles and straps in his armor. Halfway through she switched to hold his other wrist down, and he let her.

His hands were on her while she undressed him with deft fingers - they roamed, caressed, pinched and rubbed. She looked down on his bare chest, his armor finally removed and on the floor somewhere. Isabela arched her back and ground her hips down on Fenris and received a lusty moan from him in return. She put her hands on his shoulders and she ran her fingers down his chest, tracing the curves of his muscles in slow, deliberate tease. Those tattoos, she left alone, with her fingers, anyway. She leaned down and licked at his neck again.

She rocked against him and her tongue traced the lines and the curves of his tattoos, slipping off here and there to trace wet circles around his nipples. She breathed against them afterward, which brought goose bumps to his skin.

“Tell me you want it,” she demanded once again.

He groaned, “I want it.”

She laughed and bit a nipple which caused him to gasp and grip her sides tight.

“You know what?”

Isabela was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Fenris, “What?”

She whispered into his ear, “I want it too.”

He moaned but managed a smirk nonetheless, “Obviously.”

And then it was his turn to rock his hips up against her, and she moaned. Pushing up onto her knees, she pulled off her belt and sash and dangled them in the air, while giving him a considering look.  _Should_ _I…?_

“Maybe later,” he grinned in reply to her unasked question, she shivered at the eager look in his eyes.

Shrugging, she tossed them off to the side, “Suit yourself.”

She was about to remove her boots when he takes the initiative catching her off guard. He grabbed her, flipped her around and ended up setting her down on her back again. He pinned her legs with his own, and when she tried to sit up he pushed her back down with one hand on her shoulder. With his other hand, he brought his attention to the laces of her tunic. He loosened them, in the front and on the sides and released her just so that he could use both hands to finish the task.

He kissed her to shut her up as she was about to quip something else, and pushed her now loosened shirt down over her shoulders. Fenris slid his hands over her dark skin and moved the excess fabric out of the way and exposing her ample bosom. With his hands and his mouth he explored her, giving her the same treatment she’d given him earlier with her tongue and teeth and breath.

“Oh, you  _are_  enjoying yourself, aren’t you,” she managed to gasp between moans and sighs that his touches inspired. His attention and the deep rumbles and soft sighs that came from him warmed her within.

One of his hands snaked down as he kissed her again. His tongue was back in her mouth, back again tickling the roof of it, exploring behind her teeth. With his hand he rubbed circles ever lower, and finally he slid that hand between her legs. Without as much as by-your-leave, he grabbed hold of the fabric of her underwear and simply ripped it from her. She gasped in surprise. Oh, but she was pleased. She was pleased as punch.

“Fenris… how naughty!”

“Quiet, woman!” he said, but he was grinning.

She sighed with pleasure as his fingers traced down through the dark curls between her legs. He slid first one, then another finger into her. She arched her hips up at him to encourage him further while he stroked her. She opened her eyes to see him watching her, a dark and intense look in his eyes. When she flicked her tongue out at him, he kissed her.

The way he moved his fingers suddenly became just what she needed. Isabela gasped and moaned into his mouth. She felt the heat and the pressure building. Fenris groaned in return, very turned on by the way she openly expressed her enjoyment.

He leaned up and away from her, removing his fingers. She moved to follow, but he shook his head, so she lay back down and watched him. He wriggled out of his pants and his boots, and kicked them off the bed. She started unbuckling her own boots, but he stopped her.

Once again he preempted anything that she thought to say, grabbing her by the hips roughly. He pushed her closer to the headboard, subjecting her to more bruising kisses as he did. She struggled against him as he exerted more of his strength against her. As she wasn’t trying very hard, however, he just chuckled.

She reached up to fold her hands behind his neck, and twisted her legs around his waist. He gasped, then grinned at her. She recognized that predatory look on his face, and leaned forward to lick at his neck and along his scars. They seemed to be very sensitive to physical touch, but she thought perhaps that he enjoyed the slight twinge of pain that it gave him. He moaned as her tongue flicked over those white lines, and this confirmed her suspicions.

Isabela looked up at him as he rested his forehead against hers. Fenris’s mouth was parted, and his eyes were closed. He was holding his cock at her entrance, and rubbing up and down slowly. She shuddered and groaned at the sensation as his smooth flesh rubbed against that sensitive nub between her legs. Hearing her, he opened just one eye and smirked at her.

Oh, no, he wouldn’t be playing  _that_  game with her! Reaching between them, she put her hand over his, and guided his cock back to where she wanted it, and she bucked her hips up against him. She tightened her legs around him and squeezed, drawing him into her.

“Aah!” he gasped, and he groaned again, his fingers digging into her shoulders. She grabbed his ass and rocked her hips up against him forcefully. This drew another noise from him, so she repeated the action.

“Come on, Fenris, fuck me,” she said.

“I will,” he growled.

He shifted his position, supporting himself more on his knees. He grabbed her wrists, and pinned her arms down on either side of her head. Isabela was still marveling at the heat that poured through his eyes. How long had he wanted this? How long had he been  _needing_  this? Not specifically with her, but with anybody? Oh, that would make it so much better.

Well, it didn’t really matter. Damn, but his cock felt good inside.

With another growl, he bent his head to her neck and bit down, thrusting hard into her. She gasped, arching her back towards him in response, and felt the friction as their bodies scraped together. His mouth was on her neck, and she put her mouth on his ear. While he thrust again, making her moan with how thick and full he made her feel, she drew the tip of his ear into her mouth and sucked. He moaned in a most satisfactory fashion.

Fenris released her with his mouth. He kissed her, let go of her left wrist as he slid his fingers back behind her ear, underneath her scarf, into her hair. He gripped there, turning his head into the kiss, making it deeper. He had a steady, firm rhythm as he moved in and out of her. It spoke of control and experience. Obviously he was no amateur, despite what she suspected was a number of years of celibacy.

She pushed up against him, pressing her belly to his as they moved together. Their mouths came together, separated, wandered from ears to throats to shoulders, and back once more to mouths. He had hold of her right wrist, and at some point she had hold of his, while they struggled against and with one another.

Moving and struggling and gasping against one another, they came to that peak as one, and toppled over together. The satisfaction was more than fleeting, less than emotional, but suited them just fine.

Catching their breath together, Fenris buried his face in the crook of her neck.

When she could speak again, Isabela said, “We should really do this again soon.”

Fenris smirked, propping himself up on his arms and looking down at her. “So eager.”

“I know what I like.” Isabela grinned.


End file.
